Secrets Destroy
by YaoiGoddessNekoJin
Summary: It's a fact of life that there are things people wish to keep hidden from the rest of the world. It is his job to see what no one else can and make conclusions based on fact. What happens when his own secrets return to haunt his waking nightmares? SLASH
1. Chapter 1

**Title:** Secrets Destroy

**Author:** YaoiGoddessNekoJin

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** Slash, violence, language, sexual content, non-con

**Disclaimer:** Unfortunately, Sherlock and friends don't belong to me.

**A/N:** Alright, this is my first attempt at writing a Sherlock Holmes fic. Ever since I first saw the movie back in '09, I've wanted to try my hand at it, I just haven't actually started it until now. Anyway, in case you haven't already guessed, this fic is based on the Guy Ritchie movies. This story begins in the first movie and goes from there. Enjoy!

_**Chapter I**_

Holmes pouted sullenly as he crossed his arms and leaned against Watson's back. They were sitting in the middle of the prison yard after the fiasco at the dry dock. He knew Watson was angry with him, but it annoyed him to no end how his dear friend continued to prattle on about his meeting with the Morstans that Holmes had inadvertently ruined. 'For the greater good.' he thought indignantly. He rather despised Mary and, strictly based on association, her parents as well. Holmes had honestly been under the impression that he and Watson would live together at Baker Street forever. The thought that the man would meet someone had never even crossed his mind. In fact, he had been on the verge of telling Watson how he felt about him. Being that Holmes wasn't versed at all in matters of the heart, Adler didn't count because he had never loved her, it had taken him forever and a day to figure out the muddled chaos that some called emotion. Sighing in frustration, Holmes leaned further into Watson's back. The overwhelming warmth flowing off of the one he pined so desperately after encompassed him in a comfort so deep that his chest began to throb with a dull ache.

A sudden noise by the gate caught Holmes' attention. Obviously Watson had noticed it as well because he stood and sent Sherlock tumbling to the ground in an undignified heap. "Ow." he muttered, rubbing the back of his head tenderly. He glared at the brutes that were laughing at his clumsiness. Watson didn't even spare him a second look as he walked through the gate. 'Damn! It's her.' he thought upon seeing the woman that was smiling gently at his Watson. Picking himself up from the ground and brushing the dirt from his pants, Holmes followed Watson to the gate. Said gate was immediately slammed in his face. Holmes looked put off and glared at the guard as he was told that only Watson would be leaving right then.

"Watson!" he called as his friend began walking away. "You can't just leave me here." Said man turned back to Holmes.

"I can and I will." he replied coolly. Holmes found he was a little stung by the words. Obviously, his friend was still angry. Acting on pure emotion, which was something he had never done before, Holmes called out to Watson once more.

"Can't you see what that bloody wench is trying to do? She's trying to come between us! She's nothing but a harlot!" In a split second, Watson was back at the gate, reaching through and jerking Holmes into it by his shirt. His blue eyes were blazing and, when he spoke, his voice was low and deadly. He forcefully pulled his friend into the cold iron of the gate to punctuate every word.

"Don't. Ever. Speak. Of. Mary. Like. That. Again!" By the time Watson was finished venting his anger, Holmes had blood running down his face from a cut above his brow and a split lip. Watson jerked him close one more time and ground out, "I'm done Holmes. I'm done with all of your shit. I will not be working with you again. I'm finished with you and will wipe my hands clean of it all."

Sherlock new his eyes had to be as wide as a doe's. His chest hurt worse than any physical pain he had ever felt before. He looked into Watson's icy blue depths and realized that this was what it felt like when a heart shattered. As the doctor walked away, the she-devil herself approached the gate, grinning maliciously.

"I told you he was mine, Mr. Holmes. If you come anywhere near us again, I will destroy you." Mary said in a sickly sweet tone. She walked up to her fiancé and linked arms with him. As they left, Holmes could feel his eyes stinging in a way they had not for many years.

Long after Watson had taken his leave, Sherlock was still sitting on the bench they had previously shared, staring aimlessly into the distance. He was so distraught by the earlier events that he failed to notice one of the burly men coming up behind him. That was, at least, until he was roughly grabbed from behind, a large, meaty hand covering his mouth, stifling his breathing and eliminating any chance he had of calling out for help. The smell radiating from the man was absolutely putrid and Holmes felt his stomach churn in revolt. He was bodily dragged, kicking the whole way, into a small, secluded area where the brick walls shielded them from the guard's view. Holmes was biding his time and waiting for a chance to go on the offensive. That thought, however, was soon crushed as the man's hand moved to his neck and slammed his back against the wall, squeezing painfully. He was disoriented when his head impacted with the brick, a resounding crack echoing in his ears. The unforgiving hand around his neck grasped tightly, effectively cutting off his air supply. Sherlock struggled in a futile attempt to get away, feeling very much like a captured fish. His movements became slower until he no longer had energy left. The blood was rushing in his ears and his slowing heartbeat pounding in his head. 'This is it.' he thought grimly. 'I'm going to die here. Watson's still angry.' For some reason, Holmes couldn't stand the idea of dying like this. He had to at least say he was sorry. As darkness began to encroach on the outer edges of his vision, Holmes found that he was roughly dropped to the ground. The brute that was assaulting him gave a deep chuckle when Holmes, gasping desperately for air, attempted and failed to lever himself up.

"Look at that. The great Sherlock Holmes, as weak as a newborn kitten." he laughed. Holmes glared daggers at him from under the mop of dark brown hair that had fallen into his face. He coughed to clear his throat, then spoke.

"Screw you!" At this remark, the man grinned malevolently with a joviality that made Holmes' stomach churn in disgust and dread. He figured that it was time for him to take his leave and attempted to scramble, on hands and knees, out of the cove. A moment later, he heard a darkly amused chuckle before he felt himself being grabbed by the back of his pants. The ice cold tendrils of fear snaked through his very being. Holmes was easily lifted a few inches from the ground and jerked backwards. He grunted in pain as he was flipped over and his back connected forcibly with the ground. The ruffian over him smirked and lowered his hefty body down to straddle the smaller man's waist. He used one colossal hand and pinned both of Holmes' wrists above his head. He laughed in Holmes' face again, once more huffing putrid breath over his face, hot, moist breath creating unwanted humidity to gust in his ear.

"Now, I believe you've got that backwards, love." he hissed, referring to Holmes' previous comment. Sherlock froze, the sudden bolt of fear rendering him immobile. The man began to paw, in an animalistic manner at Holmes' body with his free hand. The feeling was dreadful and brought shameful tears to his eyes. Holmes began to struggle as he felt his clothes being ripped open. The effort was futile, however, as he was held fast in the man's grasp. Holmes attempted to take himself away from the situation and was successful for a while. He thought of Watson and the life they had at 221B Baker Street. He thought of the cases, the camaraderie, and the understanding and caring they shared. With a silent scream, he was ripped from his self-imposed dreamland by a searing pain that blazed a white-hot trail through his body. He squeezed his eyes shut, tears leaking from them and down his dirt streaked face as he heard the harsh grunts and felt the painful, rhythmic pounding that roughly jarred his entire body. His wrists were being held in a bone-crushing grip, being ground into the dirt and felt, what he assumed, could only be blood pooling in a small, but growing, puddle between his thighs. Holmes was mortified and turned his face into his shoulder to stifle his sobbing and cries of pain. The Neanderthal above him chuckled and, never ceasing his movements, leaned down and spoke harshly into Holmes' ear.

"How's it feel to be treated like the whore you are?" he paused to moan slightly before continuing. "Next time you see him, thank that friend of yours for me. It was awful nice of him to leave you here for my enjoyment." Holmes felt like his heart stopped in his chest. An overwhelming feeling of despair engulfed him as his thoughts raced through his mind. He wouldn't blame Watson, not at all. If there was anyone deserving of the blame in this case, as with most, it was himself. However, he couldn't help but wish that Watson was here to protect him; comfort him. With a burst of searing hot liquid that seemed to tear through him like acid, the man above him caught his breath for a moment before standing and adjusting his clothes. Before he walked away, he delivered a sharp kick to Holmes' ribs that left the smaller man curled up on the ground, pain emanating from every fiber of his being. Letting go, he sobbed uncontrollably into the ground, wishing with all of his heart that Watson still cared about him.

Watson and Mary were walking down the sidewalk arm in arm. Mary was talking animatedly about this and that, staring at her fiancé in adoration. However much Watson returned that feeling, he couldn't seem to tear his thoughts away from Holmes. Right before he had taken his leave of the prison yard with Mary, Watson thought he caught a flash of emotion that he hadn't known Holmes was capable of cross the man's face. At the time, he brushed it off as a figment of his imagination. Now, however, he could not stop thinking of that fraction of a second in time. He truly did feel bad about the things he had said to Holmes and the fact that he let Mary leave him behind. 'Oh well.' he thought. 'Holmes is more than capable of taking care of himself.'

By the time that Lestrade arrived at the prison yard, Holmes had already righted himself. He had pulled his jacket completely around him and buttoned it up to hide the fact that his shirt was a torn mess. He masked his face with his usual façade and made all of the customary jabs at the inspector in an attempt to conceal the emotional turmoil that was swirling like a thick miasma in his mind. Luckily for him, Scotland Yard's finest didn't clue in to his distress and he was able to finish the Lord Blackwood case without anyone being the wiser. He had convinced himself he was fine now, that he could put it all behind him, but, going back to Baker Street alone brought everything that had happened to the forefront of his mind and sent him spiraling out of control.

**TBC…**

**A/N: **Well, there you have it. R&R! If there are any blaring grammatical errors, please let me know. I wrote this while at work between paper and two different machines. Currently, I have bronchitis, but I just want to get this thing posted and haven't done a thorough read through like I usually do...I dun feel too good...

P.S: I'll be working on this and another Sherlock fic at the same time (hopefully) so updates may take some time. ^-^


	2. Chapter 2

**Title: **Secrets Destroy

**Author:** YaoiGoddessNekoJin

**Rating: **M

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1 (Yeah, I'm lazy XP )

**A/N:** Well, here we are! Chapter 2. First, I want to thank the people who reviewed the previous chapter. Your encouragement actually inspired to go ahead and write more for this fic instead of going ahead with the other I had planned. I will still be writing that one, but I want to get more of this story up first. ^-^ Well, Enjoy!

_**Chapter II**_

"Darling, why are you not eating?" the soft voice startled Watson from his deep thoughts. It seemed that he had been staring at his dinner for quite some time and, when he looked up, he noticed Mary had a worried look marring her face. He cleared his throat before answered her.

"I'm terribly sorry, dear. I just had a rough day today." Well, that was partially true, anyway. One of his patients hadn't made it to him soon enough after falling ill and ended up passing away. The main reason he was so distracted, however, was because he was worried about Holmes. He hadn't seen his dearest friend since the closure of the Blackwood case. That was three months ago and they hadn't exactly left things on the best of terms. During their last case together, Watson had noticed that Holmes had become somewhat distant, well more so than usual, and their relationship strained. To begin with, he had attempted to visit the detective on several occasions, only to be turned away by Mrs. Hudson. She was very apologetic about the fact that Holmes had demanded that he have _no_ visitors. As time wore on, Watson became increasingly busy with his practice and his soon-to-be wife. The day of his marriage was not very far off now and there was nothing more he wanted than to patch things up with Holmes and have him there at the ceremony. '_I guess there's only one thing to do._' He thought as he rose from his seat.

"John?" Mary questioned. Grabbing his cane and hat, he turned to look at his fiancé.

"I'm going to check in on Holmes. It's been far too long since I had a chance to." Turning to the door, Watson was stopped by a petite hand on his arm. He looked down to see imploring eyes staring back at him.

"John, please. That man is more trouble than he's worth. I'm sure he's fine and merely trying to make you worry. Obviously, it's working." Watson chuckled slightly.

"Mary, with all due respect, dear, you haven't known Holmes very long. He may be quite melodramatic at times, but he does have his own share of burdens to bear. I just want to mend things between us and make sure he's alright." As the door closed behind John, Mary cursed under her breath. Separating those two was going to be harder than she had originally thought.

~x~x~x~

Holmes was lying in the floor where he had been for days on end. He felt like he was going insane. He couldn't eat, couldn't sleep, and did not find _any_ cases the least bit interesting. He constantly noticed himself wallowing in the depths of despair and not finding it within him to claw his way out. He just didn't care anymore. He had hoped that he would be able to apologize to Watson for his behavior during their last case, but it seemed that every time he brought it up, Watson just changed the subject. What hurt the most about the entire situation, though, was that, even after all of the years they had been a team, that foul cur of a woman his friend had found was suddenly more important than he himself was. People may not have been aware, but Sherlock Holmes was a rather emotional person. He had learned very young, however, that it was necessary to build a stoic wall around his true self in order to protect him from the inevitable destruction of the outside world. This was something that had been instilled in him for so long that he didn't know any other way to cope. Holmes propped his head on one of his arms and just stared into the dark hole that was the fireplace. A single, crystalline tear fell from his eye and traced a moist path across the bridge of his nose before being absorbed by the carpet.

~x~x~x~

The sun was beginning to set by the time that Watson reached Baker Street. He looked up at the purple and pink sky as the stepped over to the door and tapped it with the handle of his cane. He smiled at the familiar sound of Mrs. Hudson bustling around and rushing to the door. When it swung open, Watson was taken aback by the bedraggled and exhausted appearance of the woman. Worry gripped his heart and his stomach roiled with the fear of what could have possibly happened.

"Mrs. Hudson! What's the matter?" he asked, alarmed. The older woman sighed in exasperation before answering the doctor.

"Dr. Watson. Am I ever relieved to see you. It's Mr. Holmes, sir. He's driving me out of my mind with anxiety." Though she looked relieved to see Watson, she still held a look of apprehension in her eyes.

"What has he done this time?"

"It's not what he's doing, it's what he's _not_ doing. He hasn't taken a single new case since you have been gone. Inspector Lestrade has even been over here to try and entice him to render his aid on a case. He's also been refusing food every time I attempt to take a tray up." While he would admit that refusing cases was extreme behavior for London's greatest detective, his attention was mostly focused on the second part of that statement.

"How long has he been declining food?" he questioned with a sense of urgency. Mrs. Hudson thought for a moment before replying.

"It first started about a month after you left, I'd say. That seems like the amount of time it took to tie up all of the loose ends regarding the the case with Lord Blackwood. As soon as he finished that up, he locked himself upstairs and hasn't been out since." To say that Watson was shocked would have been a vast understatement. All of the color drained from his face as he took what he had just been told.

"Two months? He hasn't eaten anything in two months? Why did you not contact me sooner?" He had to work to reign in his anger, not only at the woman before him, but the entire situation. Mrs. Hudson took on a baffled look.

"I did, sir! A month and a half ago. I sent an errand boy to deliver the message. He told me that the lady of the house sent him away telling him that you were not to be bothered with drama concerning Mr. Holmes any more."

"W-w- I...I...I never instructed any such thing to be done. Mary never told me anything about that!" he paused for a moment to collect himself from the shock. He would have to deal with that matter later. Right now, Holmes needed him and he was damn well going to be there. Clearing his throat, he continued. "May I go up?"

"Of course, dear. There's nothing better I could think of." Smiling kindly, Mrs. Hudson motioned for the good doctor to ascend the staircase.

As soon as he reached the top of the stairs, Watson tried the door handle to find that it was locked, as he figured it would be. He put his ear against the wood to see if he was able to discern any sounds from the inside. Fear gripped him when the only thing that met his ear was stark silence. When knocking failed to evoke a response, Watson stood back and positioned himself to kick the door in.

"Holmes, I'm coming in. If you're anywhere near the door, I would suggest you move." He waited for a moment before putting his all into a swift kick that splintered the door and flung it wide open. He was not surprised to be met with pitch black darkness and felt for the lamp that he knew was within arm's reach. Once the dim light fought off some of the dark, blue eyes scanned frantically for his friend. Just before he was about to move to the bedroom to continue his search, he caught sight of a lump in front of the fire place. At first glance, it was camouflaged by the clutter around it, but when Watson saw the undeniably human shape of said lump, he rushed over and fell to his knees beside it. Fearing the worst, he steeled his resolve and ripped the blanket away to reveal his best friend. Holmes was disheveled and pale beyond belief. There were dark circles underneath his eyes and he looked far too skinny. Watson wouldn't know the extent of the damage caused by malnutrition until he was able to do a full examination. For now, he just wanted to make sure that Holmes was alive. Lifting slightly trembling fingers to the expanse of pale throat, he pressed gently. After a moment of near panic, he finally sighed in relief when he found the thrumming of a heartbeat. It was weak and somewhat unsteady, but it was there. With his cane to aid him, Watson stood, ignoring the slight ache in his leg, and leaned over to gently lift Holmes from the cold floor. Navigating his way through the mess, he made his way into the bedroom and delicately laid the man in his arms upon the bed. He pulled the covers up to Holmes' chin and tucked them around him. Reaching into his breast-pocket, the doctor pulled out a vial and syringe. The clear liquid he drew in through the needle was packed with nutrients that would help Holmes back from the edge of death. He lifted an arm from under the blankets and rolled the sleeve up. Watson sucked in a gasp when the saw the angry red and purple marks that lined the pallid crook of that elbow and gently ran a finger over the skin before sticking the needle into the only viable vein he was able to find, injecting the liquid. After he had everything settled, he pulled a chair over to the bedside and sat down with a sigh. Watson gently brushed dark wisps of hair from Holmes' forehead and reached for the damp cloth he had brought over when he realized Holmes had a slight fever. In a rare moment of tranquility, he let his body move of its own accord and found his hand tracing down from the cloth to the lax face of the unconscious man. Watson lightly caressed the all-to-prominent cheek bone with his thumb, making a silent promise that he would never leave his friend to suffer alone again.

**TBC...**

**A/N:** Woot! Chapter two is finished! Oh the drama! ^-^ I had to do some research for this chapter. I was amazed at just how long you can survive without food as long as you drink water. Also, I'm taking liberties with the time line to make it fit the events of this story. I don't yet know whether or not I'm going to tie in the events of the second movie to this fic. Well, R&R and let me know what you think so far! ^_~


	3. Chapter 3

**Title: **Secrets Destroy

**Author:** YaoiGoddessNekoJin

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1 (Yeah, I'm lazy XP )

**A/N:** Chapter 3! So, I just wanted to thank Zucker Kuchen for letting me know that there was a problem with the update. I don't know why it was doing that... ^-^;;; Quite annoying... Anyway, I hope there isn't a problem with this one. And, as always, I hope you enjoy!

_**Chapter III**_

Dark lashes fluttered in the warm sunlight that filtered into the room. Bleary, chocolate eyes slowly blinked open only to immediately slam shut when the harsh light seared them. When Holmes was finally able to keep his eyes open, he surveyed the room. '_Odd, I don't remember going to bed._' he thought as he attempted to sit up. Failing miserably, he fell back against the bed, angered by his own weakness. A movement out the corner of his eye caught Holmes' attention and he looked down at the bed. '_Watson?_' He stared in shock at the man slumped over the side of the bed from his seat in a nearby chair. After these last few months, Holmes was sure the man had forgot about him completely, too absorbed in his fairy tale engagement to give much thought to anything else. Still, he could not circumvent the warm swell of hope and comfort that rose through his body at the sight. Of course, there was also the niggling feeling that he might be worse off than he originally thought. '_How did I not notice he was there as soon as I awoke?_'

As Holmes was contemplating the answer to that question, his previous movements had served to coax Watson from his slumber and he raised his head find out what had woken him only to have his eyes fall on a conscious Holmes. He was so surprised to see the man alert and moving around that he almost said something. He hesitated, however, when he noticed the deep lines in Holmes' forehead and the furrowed brows. His friend was deep in thought. Not wanting to disturb the train of thought that ran through that brilliant mind, he resigned himself to simply staring at his companion, blue eyes taking in each and every detail that he could. Suddenly, brown eyes met blue, each startling the other. Watson was the first to snap out of his daze.

"I'm glad to see you are awake, Holmes. You gave me quite a scare earlier." he said, voice laden with sincerity. Holmes, being his usual petulant self, simply crossed his arms and turned his head away from the other man.

"What are you doing here Watson? Don't you have a wedding to prepare for?" Watson immediately became defensive at the detective's tone and posture.

"And just what is _that_ supposed to mean, Holmes?" he returned.

"You know, you have been so _terribly_ busy with your preparations as of late. You haven't visited once since you moved in with her." Watson looked a Holmes as if he'd grown a second head. He was swiftly tiring of his childish behavior and, for some reason, angered beyond belief by that single statement.

"You are the one that instructed Mrs. Hudson to bar my entrance. I stopped by numerous times only to be told that you didn't want me here!" as he continued speaking, Watson's voice rose until he was yelling. Standing from the chair he had previously occupied, Watson continued his tirade. "I don't know what your problem is Holmes! I don't know why you insist on acting like a child just to draw attention to yourself! Your life's goal seems to be making people around you as miserable as possible! I'll let you know, Holmes, you're doing a damn good job of it." With his tirade finished, Watson turned on his heel, fully intent on storming from the room. He was fuming. Even after all these years, he still could not believe the man's utter insolence. A sound from behind him caused Watson's hand to halt on the doorknob. Turning back around, Watson caught his breath at the sight before him. Holmes was still laying in the bed in the same position. His arms, however, had migrated from being crossed to hugging himself tightly. His normally sharp eyes were large and glazed over. '_Is he...crying?_' Watson asked himself. They remained silent for what seemed like an eternity before Holmes' gravelly voice floated from the bed.

"You don't know anything." His voice was so choked with emotion that it was almost inaudible. Astonished, Watson slowly inched toward the bed until he was stopped again by Holmes speaking. "If you wanted to see me so badly, why didn't you force yourself in? I'm sure Nanny would have let you in after some coercing. You _are_ her favorite after all. You have no idea what kind of hell I've been through these past few months." A low, mirthless chuckle emitted from Holmes' lips when he noticed the slight tick of Watson's left eye. "Judging from your expression, you don't agree that I've had it any rougher than normal. Do you think I'm weak?" He chanced another look at Watson. The man's face was unreadable, even to him.

"Holmes," Watson began softly. "You know I don't think that. I'm your _friend_." Holmes scoffed.

"You _were_ my only friend. That was before you left me."

"I _just_ moved! It's the natural progression of things, getting married, having a family. Did you _honestly _think that I would live here for the rest of my life?" When Holmes swiftly looked away, Watson's eyes widened in amazement. "You did didn't you?"

"Get out" was the quiet response to the previous questions.

"What? Holmes, you can't even get out of that bed. I'm not leaving." Watson said sternly.

"I said _GET OUT_!" The doctor noted that the hurt outweighed the rage in that booming voice.

"No. I'm staying. I'm going to instruct Mrs. Hudson to keep an eye on you until I return from gathering some of my things. I refuse to let you continue to do this to yourself." With that parting remark, Watson left the room at a brisk pace.

~x~x~x~

Mary Morstan was just finishing her preparations for dinner when she heard the front door open. Putting on a grand smile, she walked out to the foyer to meet her fiance.

"Hello darling. I'm glad you're back. I missed you." Watson smiled gently as he leaned down to peck Mary's cheek with a kiss.

"I'm sorry, I can't stay long dear." Mary's face screwed up into a confused pout.

"Why ever not?"

"I just have to grab some things and then I'm going to stay at Baker Street for a while. Holmes was in worse shape than I could have imagined. I'm going to be staying with him for a bit while he recuperates." As soon as Watson's back was turned to her, Mary scowled.

"B-but, you can't possibly think that is a good idea! Doesn't he have that _landlady_ to look after him?" Watson sighed.

"While we are on the subject of Holmes, why did you sent that errand boy away when when he was sent to me for help?" he asked, crossing his arms.

'_Shit!_' Mary thought. She was hoping that he wouldn't have found out about that. Now she had to make something up, quickly. She smiled in an apologetic manner.

"Well, um, love, I honestly thought that it was all just a ruse to get you all flustered. I didn't want that vindictive friend of yours to cause you unnecessary worry." For effect, Mary lowered her head and looked up at Watson through her lashes. "Forgive me?"

"Of course. I could never stay angry with you." he ended with a kiss to Mary's forehead before his blue eyes lit up with an idea. "Hey, why don't you come with me? There's plenty of room at the apartment and I'm sure Mrs. Hudson would love some help in the kitchen."

"Oh, no, I mustn't." Mary stammered in false protest. Deep within, she couldn't help but feel immensely joyful at the new opportunity that presented itself.

"But you must! Come along, let's go pack."

"Um, let me compose a letter and then I will be up to gather my things."

Some minutes later, Mary sat back to reread the letter she had written.

_I am writing you to let you know things are progressing rather well._

_The fool has gotten himself in a bind and dear Dr. Watson has decided that it is in Mr. Holmes'_

_best interest if he returns to Baker Street to see to his charge for_

_a while. At my 'protest,' he chose to invite me along as well_

_to help with things. I will be aiding the landlady in the preparation_

_of meals and have the access and means to have quite some fun._

_If you wish to reach me with further correspondences, you can send them_

_to 221B Baker Street. Make sure that you instruct for them to be delivered_

_directly to me. They should _not _under any circumstance come into contact_

_with anyone else._

_~Mary Morstan_

**TBC...**

**A/N: **Oooo, cliffie. Whoever could Mary be writing to? Stay tuned!

On a side note, I really hope you guys are enjoying reading this fic as much as I'm enjoying writing it. I know my chapters, thus far, are kind or short and really hope to make them longer as I go. I'll ask you opinion though. Would you rather have shorter chapters and quick updates or longer chapters and lengthier update times? R&R and let me know!


	4. Chapter 4

**Title: **Secrets Destroy

**Author:** YaoiGoddessNekoJin

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1 (Yeah, I'm lazy XP )

**A/N: **Thank you to everyone who has reviewed this story so far. You guys really get me pumped to turn out another chapter asap. ^-^ So, keep those reviews coming! Enjoy!

_**Chapter IV**_

Holmes knew at least a few hours had to have passed since Watson had left. He hadn't yet lost _all_ track of time. He couldn't believe the torrent of emotion that was whirling around inside him. On one hand, he was still perturbed by Watson's anger toward him and the fact that insisted on staying with that wench of a fiancee of his. While his mind was on the subject, something was not right about that woman. She was…off. Holmes was unable to place his finger on what exactly it was that disturbed him, but he felt that she wasn't…real, almost like she was putting up a façade. He had known she wasn't right for Watson from the very beginning. Would Watson listen to him? Of course he wouldn't. Holmes had a niggling feeling that things were going to get very interesting, very soon. He didn't know if he could take any more surprises, emotionally or physically.

~x~x~x

As soon as the new, temporary lodgers arrived at Baker Street, Watson immediately put Mrs. Hudson and Mary to work making some bland and nutritious foods while he went to tend to his 'patient.' When she was positive that he was up the stairs, Mary turned to the landlady.

"Mrs. Hudson, please, leave all of this to me. You have had quite a stressful couple of months and I would hate for you to strain yourself." Mrs. Hudson was taken aback at the young woman's kindness. But, she had an obligation she was responsible for.

"Come now, I can't just let you slave away in this kitchen by yourself."

"I _insist_ Mrs. Hudson." Sighing in defeat, Mrs. Hudson nodded her head.

"Yes, yes, alright then." Turning around, the older woman went off in search of Gladstone, who was gladly brought along from Cavendish Place. Mary glanced around the corner of the kitchen door, making sure Mrs. Hudson was nowhere in sight. She turned back to the stove where she was making a light soup for the man upstairs and pulled a small vial out of its hiding place within the folds of her dress. Inside the glass confines was a white powder that almost had the appearance of pristine, fresh snow.

'_Now, it's time to get down to business._' she thought with a smirk on her face. She sprinkled a generous amount of the powder into the soup and replaced the cork on the vial. Replacing it within her dress, she stirred the contents of the pot and continued cooking.

~x~x~x~

Watson wasn't surprised at all when he walked into Holmes' room to find the man fast asleep. Knowing the detective, he would have attempted to stay awake as long as possible while awaiting Watson's return, but his body was just too weak to sustain long bouts of wakefulness right now. The doctor walked over and took the seat he had occupied earlier that morning and smiled warmly at the peaceful countenance of a slumbering Holmes. Watson had always been rather…fond of the eccentric detective, more so than any other friend he'd ever had. He knew it wasn't quite normal to feel such a connection to his friend, but at the same time, he didn't care. It had broken his heart when Mary demanded that he not see the man as often as he would like, but he could understand her point of view. After all, she was his fiancee and, as such, she should be treated with more importance than a simple friend. He had gone along with that so blindly, telling himself that Holmes would be fine on his own. In fact, Holmes _preferred_ to be alone. He honestly thought that would be the case. When he saw how the man was faring with his own eyes, however, he was wracked with a pain, the likes of which he had never felt before. His eyes prickled with tears as he remembered the state he had found his dearest friend in.

Watson was pulled from his thoughts as he heard what sounded like a whimper from the vicinity of the bed. Looking at Holmes, he noticed he was moving around uncomfortably. Within a matter of seconds, the small movements became violent thrashing and words were mouthed and yelled in a voice strangled with pain.

"No….stop….please…." Watson jumped up at Holmes' distress and placed his hands on his shoulders in an attempt to make him calm down. This only caused Holmes to struggle even harder, trying as hard as he could to escape the restraint. "…go….d-don't….touch…let go…"

"Holmes! Holmes, it's just me, old boy. It's Watson. Calm down." Watson attempted to soothe his friend in a soft voice to no avail. Holmes' writhing became more and more intense when Watson was struck by an idea. He remembered when he was little and he would have night terrors, his mother would come into the room and hold him while murmuring quietly. Desperate to try anything that would calm his distressed friend, Watson kicked his shoes off and carefully crawled into the bed beside Holmes, all the while, avoiding flailing arms. Once he got comfortable on his side, he gently pulled Holmes to his chest and began whispering pacifying words in his ear while he carded nimble fingers through the mess of unruly hair. Almost immediately, the struggling ceased and the cries of anguish quieted. Satisfied with the outcome, Watson pulled his friend closer to himself and settled his head against the dark mop of hair. The things that Holmes had said were highly strange for the stoic man and Watson had to get to the bottom of this, and he would, even if it was the last thing he did.

~x~x~x~

Mary balanced the tray in her hands carefully as she opened the door to Holmes' bedroom. She was humming softly to herself in contentment, proud of her well-planned scheme that was working so smoothly. She nearly dropped the tray, however, when she looked up at the scene before her. Her eyes widened when she saw her betrothed sleeping in the bed with that...that...vile man. Completely perturbed, she stomped over to the bed and slammed the tray down with a clatter that had both men startling awake. Holmes was the first to regain his senses and looked from the tray up to the woman that was responsible for the noise. He glared at her, irritated at the way he was abruptly awoken. He noticed that the corners of Mary's mouth twitched ever so slightly and the skin around her eyes crinkled as if she meant to smirk at him, pleased with herself for alarming him, no doubt.

"Mary! Dear Lord, you scared me." Watson's voice caused the rivals to tear their gazes from each other and focus on the other man in the room. Mary immediately plastered the fakest smile Holmes had ever seen on her face.

"I'm terribly sorry dear! I merely tripped and tried to avoid spilling the food. Goodness knows Mr. Holmes does not need to wait any longer to eat. Poor dear looks awful." Holmes' scowl became more intense and he jerked away when she attempted to pat his head. Seeming to not notice his friend's reaction, Watson beamed at Mary and stood from the bed, straightening his rumpled clothes and walked around the bed to stand beside her. He placed his hand around Mary's shoulders and pulled her into his side. Mary looked adoringly at her fiance and then shot a smug, triumphant look down at Holmes.

"Well, Holmes, we are going to the sitting room. You better eat all of what Mary brought you or I will force feed it to you. Yell if you need anything."

"He's quite good at that, isn't he." Mary remarked. The gentleness of her tone belied the insult the comment was meant to be. Watson just smiled in amusement as he steered Mary from the room and closed the door behind them.

As soon as they were gone, Holmes looked down at his hands and stared intently. Of course Watson couldn't see how nefarious that woman was. He was too blinded by love. Holmes sighed forlornly. He had always viewed love and such emotions as weakness. They dulled the senses and fueled irrational thoughts. The more time that went by, the more that belief was reinforced. He was utterly useless and it was all because of his feelings for Watson. He was frustrated, angry, and depressed all at the same time and he hated it. Here he was, in complete agony while his best, and only, friend who used to know him so well was completely oblivious. It was all _her_ fault. She came between them and bewitched Watson so that she was all he could see.

Holmes turned to the nightstand and, as carefully as he could manage in his weakened state, pulled the tray to rest it in his lap. He was hesitant to try the soup, knowing Mary, she probably put some ingredient in it to make it disgusting. Taking a small spoonful, he tasted it experimentally. Surprisingly, it wasn't bad at all. The soup was actually quite good. Holmes ate about half of the small bowl before he began to feel nauseous and had to stop. Replacing the tray on the nightstand, Holmes burrowed under the thick covers of the bed. He was freezing due to his lack of weight. As he lay in silence, he was unable to keep his mind from wondering to his nightmare. It had been dreadful as he had to relive his rape all over again. This wasn't the first time that he had this dream either and, every time it happened, it was always so vivid that he felt he was _there_. The pain, anguish, and despair were so tangible that he knew he would never truly heal as long as it continued. Holmes rolled over and curled up into as tight a ball as he could. He didn't want to go to sleep. He _couldn't_ sleep or he would dream again. He also didn't want to be awake so he could dwell on how miserable his life was.

"There's only one solution then." he murmured to himself. Uncurling, he reached over to the nightstand and opened the drawer. He removed the false bottom and took out the spare supplies he kept there in the event that Watson decided to remove his morocco case from his possession. Holmes went through all of the familiar steps of preparing his elixir and sighed in relief when he felt the cold needle pierce his skin.

**TBC...**

**A/N:** I want to apologize for the length of time that it took to get this chapter up. The past week has been kind of hectic and I haven't had the time to just sit down and write. I hope you guys are still interested! And, again I want to thank all of my wonderful reviewers and the people alerted/favorited this story. You guys are awesome! Well, until next time!


	5. Chapter 5

**Title: **Secrets Destroy

**Author:** YaoiGoddessNekoJin

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1 (Yeah, I'm lazy XP )

**A/N: **Well, here's another chapter! I would have updated over the weekend, but got a bit busy. ^-^;;; I've been trying to crank these out as fast as I can. Anyway, I want to thank everyone who is reading this, especially those who are reviewing! You guys rock! Enjoy!

_**Chapter V**_

It had been a week since Watson and Mary temporarily abandoned their home a Cavendish Place and moved to Baker Street. To Watson's consternation, Holmes was not recovering at all. In fact, he was beginning to get worse. Watson was perplexed. Holmes had been severely emaciated and suffering from the effects of heavy cocaine use, but there had been no complications. He had seemed to be regaining his strength for the first day or two, but was completely drained in the immediate days following. Now, there were additional symptoms that were beginning to present themselves. Holmes seemed to be tired all of the time, no matter if he slept a majority of the day or not. He also suffered constant headache that had been raging for three days now. Occasionally, when Holmes awoke from the grip of unconsciousness, he was confused and did not know where he was or what was going on. The confusion is what scared Watson the most. He had never seen Holmes in such a state and was worried that there might be more going on than starvation and drug use. He found himself sitting by his friend's side most of the day, and the night, keeping vigil, which began to agitate Mary. In fact, the only time he saw his fiancée was when she brought food for Holmes or when she attempted to coax him from the man's side. The abrupt opening of the bedroom door startled Watson from his thoughts. Mary walked into the room carrying a tray with food on it. She set it roughly on the nightstand and turned to look at him.

"John, dearest, you cannot continue to do this. Mr. Holmes will be fine without you sitting here worrying yourself to death." she said kindly. Watson looked up at her, tired blue eyes expressing that he did not wish to argue.

"Let me get him to eat and I will go rest." he said, resigned. Mary beamed at him and left the room in a rather jovial mood. Watson simply shook his head and looked at his slumbering friend. "Holmes." he called softly. "Holmes, wake up." The gentle prodding awoke Holmes who blinked up at Watson with glassy, unfocused eyes. Although he was upset at the look, he put on a smile for the sake of the other man. Watson carefully lifted Holmes' shoulders and put an extra pillow underneath to prop him up so he could eat. Watson then took the bowl of warm soup and slowly fed his friend as much as he was able to eat.

Keeping his word to Mary, once Watson had Holmes fed and situated back in the bed, he walked out into the study to head for his room. Glancing at the broken and splintered wood that used to be a door, Watson made a mental note to fix that later. As it was, the debris had been pushed out of the way to make room for people to walk. Sighing, Watson shook his head and walked up the stairs to his former room, his limp more pronounced from days of inactivity.

A few minutes after Watson left the room, Holmes jerked awake, gulping in gasps of air. It was the same dream that had been plaguing his sleep for three months now. Only, they were becoming more and more vivid as the days wore on. Holmes was at a loss for what to do. He knew he was ill, but had no idea why or how. Before he could even contemplate his illness, the door creaked open and the bane of his existence walked into the room.

"Hello. I do hope you are feeling better." she said in such a sickly sweet voice that it made Holmes cringe. He really was sick and tired of that woman. As she slowly approached the bed, the fake smile gradually morphed into a venomous, prideful one. Mary leaned down to his ear, as if she were about to tell his a secret.

"I told you, Mr. Holmes, that if you continued to insist on ruining my dearests life by hindering him with your worthless presence, then I would be forced to make you life a living hell, did I not? You reap what you sew, Mr. Holmes." she said lowly. Holmes' eyes widened and he struggled to speak against the tightness that was still closing his throat from his dream.

"B-bitch." he was able to force out. Rage flashed in Mary's eyes and she slapped him harshly across the face. The force of the blow knocked Holmes' head to the side, effectively dazing him for a moment. Mary laughed at him when he glared at her. The corner of his mouth was dripping bright crimson blood and the skin was already beginning to bruise. He glared murderously at her and she turned on her heel and left the room. '_I think it's time I had a chat with Watson._'

A couple of hours later brought the appearance of Mrs. Hudson who gladly retrieved Watson for Holmes. The doctor was now sitting in the chair beside his bedside once more and staring at him, curiosity reflected in his blue eyes.

"What did you need Holmes? Are you feeling better?"

"No time for pleasantries, dear Watson. There are more important matters to attend to." he hesitated for a brief second.

"Go on." Watson prompted."

"I'm terribly afraid that you will not like the knowledge I am about to share with you. It seems that the woman you have chosen to wed is nothing more than a wolf in sheep's clothing." The expression on Watson's face became incredulous with a hint of exasperation.

"Not this again. Please."

"No, you do not understand old boy. This is not simply an act of jealousy. The woman is truly a snake. Do you remember when she came and got you out of detainment during the Blackwood case?" Holmes paused and waited for Watson to nod before continuing. "After you walked away, she threatened me."

"Oh Holmes! Come on! You cannot expect me to believe that Mary would threaten you. And, even if she did, you continuously take on _men_ much larger than yourself and you are whining because you believe that a _woman_ threatened you? You are unbelievable."

"Watson, you don't understand! That woman is evil! She's responsible for my bout of sickness, I know she is! She was in here earlier and ended up hitting me!" Watson attempted to protest that, but seeing it coming, Holmes interjected. "If you don't believe me, all you have to do is look at my face." Watson turned the bedside lamp on to inspect his friend's face. Sure enough, there was a dark bruise marring the side of Holmes' face and his lip was split. Unwilling to believe that Mary was capable of doing that with no provocation, Watson called her into the room.

"Mary. Could you please come here for a moment?" he said loud enough for her to hear him from the floor below. Holmes and Watson sat in awkward silence in the time it took for her to traverse the stairs, one stewing in anger and the other pouting.

"What is it darling?" she asked once she reached the room.

"Mary, did you strike Holmes?" As soon as the question left Watson's mouth, Mary didn't hesitate in regarding him with an ashamed and apologetic look.

"I did. However, it was only in response to Mr. Holmes insulting me." Watson shot a glare at Holmes before turning back to Mary.

"What did he say?"

"Oh, well, it's quite embarrassing to repeat, but if you insist on knowing… He called me a bitch." Becoming enraged, Watson stood from his chair so fast that the object was thrown backwards.

"Holmes! That was uncalled for! She had every right to hit you, as do I! After all she's done for you, making your every meal, and that's how you treat her? Just for that, I am inclined to call Mycroft to come look after you so that Mary and I can return home.

"Watson, you have to _listen_ to me! I'm not lying!" By this point in the conversation, Holmes was panting due to all of the energy he was exerting during the argument.

"I've been listening to you long enough." with that said, Watson turned and left the room. As Mary left, she paused to smirk at Holmes.

Over the course of the next few days, Watson only came into Holmes' bedroom with food or to periodically check on his overall health. Sometimes, he would even send Mrs. Hudson some of the time to avoid the man as much as possible. After the fourth day of this happening, Mrs. Hudson was bringing Holmes his lunch and, as she set it on the nightstand, preparing to help him with whatever he needed, she noticed something odd. It appeared as it all of the muscles in the detective's body had gone rigid. She was just about to attempt to rouse him when his body began jerking. As Mrs. Hudson looked on in horror, violent convulsions wracked the gaunt body. Leaving the room as fast as she was able to, she immediately went to get the one person she knew could help.

"Dr. Watson! Dr. Watson!" As soon as she made it to the bottom of the stairs, she saw that Watson had come to the base of said stairs out of curiosity.

"Mrs. Hudson, what is it?"

"Dr. Watson, it's awful! It's Mr. Holmes! There's something wrong!" she spoke swiftly, attempting to get the urgency across to the man in front of her. As soon as the words left her mouth, Watson took off, running as fast as he was able to up the stairs.

Watson gasped when he entered the bedroom. Holmes was still convulsing and he rushed to the beside. He gently took Holmes' head in his hands to keep him from hurting himself. When he heard the footsteps of the still upset Mrs. Hudson, Watson called to her without turning around.

"Fetch my bag!"

"Right away."

"Shhh." Watson used one hand to smooth the Holmes' hair from his sweat-soaked forehead. When his bag was brought to him, Watson fished around inside it with one hand, the other still on Holmes' person. Pulling out a vial and a syringe, he reluctantly utilized both hands to pull the clear liquid into the tube and injected it into Holmes.

"What is that?" Mrs. Hudson inquired when she noticed the convulsions slowly ceasing.

"A muscle relaxant. They are quite effective at stopping a person from seizing."

"What caused it in the first place?" she asked, watching Watson situate himself behind Holmes so that the detective was resting against his chest.

"I don't know. I need to make sure that if it happens again, I am able to stop it as soon as possible. Convulsions can be very dangerous and that danger increases with each one that occurs."

An hour or two later, Holmes awoke from his slumber. He was quite groggy and his entire body ached. He immediately noticed that there was a solid warmth against his back. Turning his head, he found his face buried in Watson's chest. After taking a moment to stay like that and just inhale the scent that was unique to the man, Holmes looked up to see that Watson was sleeping. '_Why is he in my bed?_' he wondered as a slight heat spread across his cheeks. Holmes lay back against the broad chest, Holmes placed his ear over the thudding heart of the one he held so dear. Allowing himself this one moment of peace while the other was unaware, Holmes rested his hand atop Watson's and intertwined their fingers. He felt his body go lax as a comfort that he had not felt in a very long time settled over him. Unable to stifle his emotions when in such a vulnerable state, Holmes whispered his deepest secret to the slumbering man.

"I love you." Hearing a stuttering breath in the chest under his head, Holmes' body was wracked with a cold sweat as fear and dread coursed through his body. Looking up ever so slowly, he locked onto wide, shocked, blue eyes.

**TBC...**

**A/N:** Ooooo, I'm evil! Bwahahaha! Evil cliffy of doooooom. Also, again, I'm lazy and didn't read over this as I usually do. I wanted to get it posted asap. R&R!


	6. Chapter 6

**Title: **Secrets Destroy

**Author:** YaoiGoddessNekoJin

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1 (Yeah, I'm lazy XP )

**A/N:** Wow, thanks for the great reviews! I'm really glad you guys are enjoying this story! So, needless to say, things are going to get a little interesting in this chapter.

_**Chapter VI**_

_'I love you.'_

.Holmes' entire body stiffened and his breathing seemed to cease all together. He kept his eyes locked on Watson, afraid of his friend's reaction. Watson opened and closed his mouth a few times, doing a fantastic impression of a fish as he was at a loss of what to say. Before the awkward silence could stretch on any further, Holmes promptly turned away from Watson, his face ashen, and proceeded to empty the contents of his stomach in his lap and on the bed. Watson immediately jerked from his surprised stupor and rubbed Holmes' back until the only thing the man could muster were dry heaves. Holmes fell back against Watson's chest, exhausted, and his human pillow brought a hand up to rest on his forehead after pushing his dark, sweat-soaked bangs away. Holmes looked up at Watson, humiliation clearly evident in his eyes.

"I'm sorry. " he muttered quietly. Watson just smiled gently at Holmes.

""It's not your fault. You're ill." he said, beginning to shift around behind Holmes. "Sit tight for a moment. " he instructed. Watson stood from the bed and carefully gathered the blanket from the man and picked him up bridal style. Embarrassed, the detective squirmed in the firm grip.

"Watson! Put me down. I am fully capable of walking on my own." Watson just scoffed.

"Really? Are you _sure_ you want to test that theory?"

Entering the bathroom, Watson set his load on the lid of the toilet and turned to large tub and began letting it fill with warm water. While that was going, he turned back to Holmes and started removing the soiled clothes piece by piece. Being in such close proximity to Watson while his clothes were being removed caused Holmes' face to turn a deep scarlet color.

"Now, Watson, old boy, _this _I can well enough take care of myself." Watson smirked and replied.

"It's all right. It's nothing I haven't seen before."

"But-" Without him realizing it, Watson had completely rid him of his dirty clothes and cut off his protest by picking him up. The doctor gently submerged Holmes into the steamy tub, motioned for him to stay put, and left the room. Holmes sank down into the water until he was nearly eye level with the water. He could vaguely hear Watson asking Mrs. Hudson to bring up some fresh sheets for the bed. As Watson returned, Holmes counted each step the man took, the sound of his limp strangely comforting. Holmes began to relax more and more with each _clack_ of Watson's shoes against the wood of the floor. He felt like he was melting into the water, becoming one with it. He was grounded when something grabbed his arm. Fear raced through his body and all he could see were dark, evil eyes.

Watson had been surprised to see Holmes sinking slowly into the water that filled the tub when he returned to the bathroom.

"Well, it is good that he's relaxing, but I'd rather he not drown himself." He muttered to himself. He crossed the bathroom in three large steps and grabbed Holmes' arm to gently hoist him back up in the tub. Watson was astonished when Holmes began flailing and kicking, splashing water everywhere. In an effort to calm his friend before he got hurt, Watson grabbed Holmes around the torso.

"Homes!" he grit out between clenched teeth. "Stop it! It's just me! It's Watson!" Finally, after what seemed like hours, Holmes had calmed down. That, however, had resulted in Watson sitting in the tub, clothes heavy with water, grasping Holmes around the chest. Both gasping for breath, Watson recovered his ability to speak first.

"What on Earth was that about?" Holmes just sat, still and silent in the, now cold, water, staring down at his hands. Struggling to pull himself from the tub, Watson finally succeeded and moved to stand where he could see Holmes' face. Likewise, the detective was able to see Watson and took in his disheveled appearance. Watson's face was still flushed from exertion and his hair was a mess. His clothes were hanging limply, sodden with water, and he was still panting slightly. Knowing it was completely inappropriate, but unable to help it, a smile crept its way across his face until he was laughing heartily in amusement. Watson's first reaction was to shoot a scowl, albeit and amused one, at the other man, but he soon dissolved into a fit of laughter as well.

When they were finally able to calm down, Watson went to change clothes and Holmes, not quite ready to leave the tub, ran some hotter water to get warmed up again. When the doctor returned to the washroom, he knelt beside the tub and got the soap out.

"Watson, I am fully capable of washing myself, thank you." Holmes said indignantly. Watson chuckled slightly before he replied.

"Perhaps, but you cannot very well reach your back, can you?" Holmes huffed and crossed his arms like a child. This caused his companion to smile fondly as he began to gently lather up the detective's back. A thought suddenly occurred to him that made him cease his ministrations. "Holmes, did you really mean what you said?"

"When?" Holmes asked back, turning confused eyes to his friend.

"Back in the bed, when you thought I was asleep." Holmes immediately stiffened. When no answer came, Watson attempted, quite unsuccessfully, to lean around the man to get a look at his face. "Holmes," he continued gently, "do you really love me?"

"Yes." came the reply, so quiet that Watson nearly missed it. He wasn't done just yet, though. He _had_ to know more.

"More than friends?" On the inside, Watson was chastising himself. Of course that wasn't what Holmes had meant. It was outrageous that he was even suggesting it.

Watson's day had been filled with seemingly never-ending surprises. This one, however, took the cake. Holmes looked up at Watson, his face unusually vulnerable, and answered the last question.

"Yes." That one simple word nearly knocked him over. In that one moment of time, Watson's entire world seemed to flip on its axis. Watson grasped for the right thing to say in response, he ended up saying nothing. Holmes, taking that as the blatant rejection he knew had been coming from the very beginning, turned his head to face the opposite direction.

"Please leave." he murmured. When Watson showed no sign of budging, Holmes snapped. "GO!" he yelled. Not ready to oblige Holmes just yet, Watson grabbed his arm and turned him, forcefully, so that they were facing each other. Watson gasped when he saw the tears welling in the eyes of his stoic friend. His anger at Holmes' temper tantrum faded and his voice was soft when he spoke.

"Holmes, you haven't even let me speak-" he was cut off by a terse reply.

"Your silence said volumes."

"Would you shut up? Listen, this is a lot to take in. I'll have to do some thinking on the entire situation. You know, I am supposed to be wed soon so I will have to make sure that, whatever I might choose, it is the very best option." As Holmes stared at Watson, he analyzed everything about him before speaking.

"You don't hate me?" Watson's brow furrowed moment, unable to believe that Holmes could actually think that. He then smiled softly.

"Of course I don't." he said and brushed a wet lock of hair from equally dark eyes.

Mary sat at the large desk that occupied the room she and John were sharing during their stay at Baker Street. She had just finished reading a letter she had received earlier that morning and was working on a response.

_Ms. Morstan,_

_I trust things are going well with our arrangements. I want this job_

_to be over with and soon. There is no sense in drawing out _

_the inevitable. If any issues should arise, contact me _

_immediately._

_ ~X_

'_Short and to the point as always._' she thought to herself as she pulled out a piece of parchment from the desk drawer and began to write.

_Sir,_

_It is quite nice to hear from you. Yes, I am glad to let you _

_know that thing are going according to plan. The only minor disruption_

_is that I seem unable to completely sever the ties between John and _

_Mr. Holmes. It doesn't matter, though. They fight more than _

_usual and Mr. Holmes ends up brooding. He _

_shall be put out of his misery..._

Mary was disrupted from her writing when she heard John limp down the stairs and through the front door. She smiled maliciously and stashed the letter in the bottom drawer, along with the one she had received, and made her way to Holmes' room. It was time to make things a bit easier for herself.

Later that day, Watson met up with a colleague from his college days. The man's name was Samuel Tresbeaux and he had spent the last several years in Germany, learning cutting edge medicine techniques. As Watson neared the small cafe he was meeting his friend at, he could see the man already seated at a table. He looked the same as always, tall, muscular but slim, dark hair, pale blue eyes. He really was quite handsome and always caught the ladies' eyes when they were in school. As Watson neared, the man turned a brilliant smile towards him.

"John! It has been far too long, my friend."

"That it has, Samuel. I only wish it were under different circumstances that we reunited." Immediately, a calculating, serious look came over Samuel's face.

"Yes, yes. As do I. Let's cut to the chase. What symptoms are your patient presenting? Anything that confounds the great John Watson must be tricky indeed." Watson sighed as he got ready to explain everything that was going on.

"I believe everything started about a week and a half ago. I'll go ahead and tell you that my patient is Sherlock Holmes." Samuel let out a low whistle of amazement. "Anyway, he has been in rather poor health these past few months. He has not been eating and his use of cocaine has substantially increased. About a week and a half ago, Mary and I moved into the old flat to keep an eye on him because he was so emaciated. A couple of days after that, he was stricken with a headache and was more tired than he had been before. When he was awake, he was disoriented and confused. Yesterday, he succumbed to violent convulsions and today, he became ill with vomiting." Watson paused and heaved a sigh of frustration. "And I have absolutely no idea what is wrong with him."

Samuel looked at Watson with a deeply contemplative look as he spoke, searching for the hidden answer to his friend's burning question. He thought long and hard until, finally something clicked in his mind.

"John, have you ever heard of arsenic poisoning?"

~x~x~x~

**TBC...**

**A/N:** I wasn't originally planning to end this chapter there, but it just seemed too perfect. Dun dun duuuuuun! R&R!


	7. Chapter 7

**Title: **Secrets Destroy

**Author:** YaoiGoddessNekoJin

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1 (Yeah, I'm lazy XP )

**A/N: **I just couldn't stay away for any length of time. I've got so many ideas and thoughts spinning around in my brain it's not even funny. Well, here's the next chapter. Enjoy!

_**Chapter VII**_

'_John, have you ever heard of arsenic poisoning?_'

Watson immediately locked eyes with Samuel, not wanting to believe this was going where he thought it was.

"Yes. I've heard of it, but never dealt with it firsthand."

"Well, I have and it's not pretty. I had a man once who presented with the same symptoms that Mr. Holmes has. He came to me quite ill, but by that time, it was already too late. There was nothing I could do because his organs had already begun to shut down. When he finally passed and an autopsy was done, it was discovered that he had fallen victim to arsenic poisoning." Not able to stop himself, Watson gasped lightly at that revelation. "Later on, his wife was arrested, seeing as she was the only one with the opportunity to pull off such a crime. She confessed that she had been dosing his food with arsenic over the course of a six month period."

"If that is truly what it is, why is it affecting Holmes so quickly?" Watson questioned.

"It all depends. It could be the amount that is being used, the fact that his body and immune system were already compromised, or a combination of both." Watson sat and mulled over the idea for a moment. Everything seemed to fit and Samuel seemed more than confident in his conclusion. The entire idea terrified him. What if it was too late to do anything?0

"What is usually used for the conveyance of poison to a person?"

"Generally, it is used in food or drinks. It goes unnoticed and the victim isn't even aware that he is being poisoned. Not even after falling ill."

"Who could be doing this? Someone he's put in jail?" Watson muttered to himself.

"No, more like someone a lot closer to home. It would have to be someone who comes into contact with his food on a daily basis." Samuel said thoughtfully. Watson paled at that statement. It couldn't be…

"Mrs. Hudson would never do a thing like that!" he exclaimed.

"Is there someone else who prepares his meals?"

"Well, Mary, but she would never do anything like that either. Sure, she doesn't like Holmes, but she would never try to _kill_ him." Samuel sighed. Just from everything he heard, he had already figured who the most likely suspect was. His friend wasn't going to like this, but it _had_ to be known. The only way to do this would be to have him discover the truth for himself.

"Tell me, when did the symptoms begin?"

"Well, not too long after Mary and I…moved…..in…. I mean, she _couldn't _have."

"The answer is simple. Which one do you trust the most?" Watson didn't even have to pause before he answered Samuel.

"Mrs. Hudson is like family. I know for a fact that she would never do anything to harm either one of us."

"That only leaves you with one other option, no?" Watson turned to his fellow doctor with piercing blue eyes.

"Mary would not hurt _anybody_."

"Are you sure about that? Tell me John, how much do you actually _know_ about that woman?" Looking down at the table for a moment, Watson promptly changed the subject.

"How do I know if that's actually what's wrong with him?" At this, Samuel flashed Watson a cunning smile.

"I thought you'd never ask."

Mary crept quietly into Holmes' room. She was under the impression that he was asleep and was startled by a raspy voice calling out to her.

"What are _you_ doing here?" Mary scowled at the rude tone the man used.

"I just came to bid you farewell." she said haughtily. Holmes studied her closely, eyes squinting with the effort.

"Good, I'm glad I'll finally have some peace and quiet." Mary laughed at his statement.

"Oh no, you misunderstand, dear. _John_ and I are leaving. We're going back to Cavendish Place where we belong. John finally realized what a nuisance you are and decided he would be a lot better off without the burden you are." Holmes sent a frosty glare to the woman.

"Lair."

"Oh, am I? Tell me, where is John now? You don't know, do you? That's because he has gone out to take some of our things back to _our_ home." Mary turned to leave the house. "Farewell and good riddance, Mr. Holmes."

A few moments after Mary left the room, Holmes' hand twisted in the sheet and his grip tightened until his knuckles turned white. Was Mary telling the truth? Did Watson think he was a burden? That thought hurt worse than all of the physical pain he had felt his entire life. Bringing his other hand up, Holmes clutched at his aching chest. No, she _had _to be lying. He would just have to keep reminding himself of that.

On the carriage ride back to Baker Street, Watson thought over what Samuel had told him during their meeting.

"_The Marsh Test was first published in medical books in 1836. Until then, there had been other ways of detecting the presence of arsenic in one's body, but none come close to the accuracy of this test."_

Watson knew he had to figure this out so that he could help Holmes. He _had_ to help him. Watson could not even imagine a world that was void of the wacky, but brilliant, detective. This urgency he felt was so strong that, at this point, he didn't even care that Mary may have been the culprit. '_I…I guess _that's_ my answer to Holmes' confession earlier._' he thought. Once the carriage arrived at it's destination, Watson got out and nearly ran up the stairs. He was glad that he didn't see Mary on his way up there. When he opened the door to the detective's room, he saw that he was curled up on his side facing the opposite wall. Quietly, he walked over and removed the blanket where it was covering his arm. He pulled Holmes' hand out, already knowing that his arms would not be suitable for what he was about to do. Watson pulled out a syringe and tied a tourniquet around his wrist and went in search of a good vein. Once he found one, he took a blood sample, all the while, grateful that Holmes was such a heavy sleeper.

"_What do I do?"_

"_First, you have to take a blood or tissue sample. Personally, I would recommend the blood; it's a lot less painful. After that, put the sample in a glass beaker and add zinc and acid. Now, if there is, __indeed, arsenic in the system, it will produce arsine gas._

Watson rushed up to his old room and pulled out the lab set he had left behind. Mary had said it took up too much room and for that, Watson was now immensely gracious of that. Getting everything set up, he pulled the chemicals he needed from the cabinet in the closet and started his experiment. After he mixed the appropriate items, Watson noticed that, sure enough, there was an almost invisible gas rising from the beaker. He quickly prepared for the next step.

"_How will I know if the arsine is present?"_

"_The gas itself is colorless and odorless, but you should be able to see slight distortion in the air above the beaker. Also, during the oxidation process, you will smell a slight fish-like scent."_

"_Then?"_

"_Then you will ignite the gas. It causes the arsine to oxidize into water vapor and arsenic."_

Watson struck a match and did just as he was told. The initial flare of the flame was quite large but it soon died down into a steady burn. Watson then reached for the bowl to his side.

"_Once you have ignited the gas, get a chilled, ceramic bowl and place it in the direct path of the flame. Hold it there for a moment or two and, when you bring it back, there will be a silvery-black deposit on the inside. That, my friend, is arsenic. The intensity of the color also reflects just how much of the poison is in his body."_

Watson followed every instruction very carefully. When he pulled the bowl away for inspection, he saw the deposit on the inside. The intensity of the color was in the middle ground, as Samuel had expected, and Watson could not believe what he was seeing. Holmes, _his_ Sherlock Holmes, the man that had been by his side through thick and thin, was being poisoned by a woman that _he_ had brought into their lives. Saying he felt guilty would have been a vast understatement. Watson felt wretched for being the cause of his dear friend's illness. Watson took off down the stairs, tearing into Holmes' room where the man was curled into a tight ball.

"Holmes, what's the matter?" he asked as soon as he entered.

"Stomach…..cramps…hurt….." was all Holmes managed to gasp between gritted teeth. Watson approached the bed and lifted the cover to slip under. He gently rolled Holmes so that they were facing each other and ran his fingers through sweat-soaked hair.

"Shh, it's alright. Try not to think about it." he soothed. Holmes looked up at Watson with an ashen face.

"_What do I do if he is being poisoned? Please say there's a way to help him."_

"_There is one thing that has proved to be quite effective during experimentation. Garlic. You must get copious amounts of garlic into his system. It will pull the arsenic from the blood, cells, and tissue."_

"Watson..." he said and the doctor looked down into the pain-filled eyes of his best friend. Was it possible that his feelings mirrored Holmes'? '_Well, there's only one way to find out._' Keeping his eyes locked on those of Holmes', Watson leaned down slowly, watching as the pain turned into a slight spark of hope in those deep brown eyes, he closed the distance between them until their lips met in a chaste kiss.

Mary sighed in frustration and went back to writing her letter at Watson's desk.

_I'm terribly sorry, I was interrupted during my letter. It is a good thing, too. _

_I think we may have some issues. I saw John running some chemical_

_experiments in his room. I think he's onto us. What should I do?_

_~Mary_

~x~x~x~

**TBC...**

**A/N:** Woah! Two updates in two days! I am on a roll! Anyway, all you people that are enjoying, reviewing, alerting/faving this story are the greatest! ^-^ R&R!

P.S: – Samuel? Any similarities he may have to anyone else is purely coincidence.

^-^ He is an OC that I created on the fly as I was writing. XD


	8. Chapter 8

**Title: **Secrets Destroy

**Author:** YaoiGoddessNekoJin

**Rating:**

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1 (Yeah, I'm lazy XP )

**A/N: **First, I want to apologize. I'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRYI'MSORRY! I will do better, I promise! Also, I was reading over the last chapter and noticed some typos. Goodness do I feel stupid! Anyway, I fixed them and re-posted the chapter. I've been very busy as of late and haven't had the time to write. I do have big plans for this fic and, hopefully, I can get more written in a fairly short amount of time. ^-^ In the mean time, I'll try my best to update as soon as possible. I'm really happy that you guys are enjoying this!

_**Chapter VIII**_

The kiss was simple and chaste but it told Watson all he needed to know. He was surprised, however, when he was weakly pushed away. He looked at Holmes in confusion and saw that the man had his head downcast, messy hair covering his face.

"Don't." he muttered. Watson was thoroughly bewildered.

"What? I thought this was what you wanted?"

"Your pity, no. Never."

"What on Earth are you talking about?" Holmes looked up at Watson through his bangs.

"You're just doing that because you feel sorry for me. That doesn't, however, seem to stop you from leaving."

"Leaving? I'm not leaving Holmes. Who told you that?" Holmes swiftly locked eyes with the doctor. Watson could see a sort of hope, albeit restrained, at his statement. He waited until the man in front of him mumbled something that he was unable to make out. "What?" he asked gently.

"Accursed wench." he repeated, louder than before.

"Did Mary tell you I was leaving?" he asked evenly.

"Yes. She said I was a burden on you and you were finished with me." At Holmes' words, a sudden anger flared inside of Watson. Mary's behavior over the past few days made it easier and easier to believe the she was the one poisoning Holmes. He cursed Mary for all she had done, attempting and succeeding in driving a wedge between him and his best friend, poisoning said friend, and taking advantage of Holmes' insecurities and self-loathing.

"That's it." Watson grumbled as he rose from the bed. Holmes reached out and grabbed his wrist, looking up with inquisitive eyes.

"Where are you going?"

"To take care of some business. I will be back as soon as I can. I'll also have Mrs. Hudson bring you some soup that should make you begin to feel better." At the end of his statement, Watson leaned down and placed a gentle kiss against Holmes' forehead. There was no doubt in the world that the simple action felt so _right_.

~x~x~x~

Mary was grinning to herself as she pulled the letter she had began writing from the drawer it was hidden in. She had decided to send another update that recanted her earlier statement that she believed their plan had been compromised. She was about to set it in front of her when she heard footsteps coming up the stairs. She shoved the letter back in the drawer and stood, moving away from the desk. When Watson entered the room, Mary was busying herself by organizing and putting away the scientific utensils that her fiancé had been using.

"Darling, hello! I haven't seen you all day. I missed you." She moved closer to Watson as she was speaking and leaned forward to kiss him, but he jerked back away from her. "John, what's wrong?" she asked quizzically.

"I want you out." he stated firmly. Mary could not believe what she was hearing. And here she thought she had him wrapped around her little finger. Still, she attempted to feign innocence.

"Whatever for?"

"You damn well know what for. You have been playing with everyone's mind since you arrived. Then, you tried to poison Holmes for goodness sake!" As he spoke, Watson's voice steadily grew until he was shouting at the woman. He glared at her with icy eyes and continued. "I want you out of this home immediately. If you are not vacated within the next ten minutes, I will have Inspector Lestrade show you the way out." With that final statement, Watson turned on his heel and left the room.

After Watson left, Mary stood, glaring at the ground. She had been so careful, so inconspicuous. She had been sure that John was so smitten with her that he would think she could do no evil. It looked like Holmes was more persuasive than she originally thought. Packing all of her things, Mary stalked from Baker Street and back to Cavendish Place. She had a letter to finish writing.

~x~x~x~

Watson fuming as he made his way to the kitchen. He could not _believe_ he had let himself be hoodwinked by Mary and, for all intents and purposes, been turned against Holmes. He vowed to himself that he would _never_ let such a thing happen again.

When Watson arrived at the kitchen, he saw Mrs. Hudson flitting around preparing some tea. He cleared his throat to get her attention.

"Oh, Dr. Watson! How is Holmes feeling?" she asked. He smiled slightly at the woman who, regardless of what Holmes himself thought, cared deeply for her rambunctious tenant.

"A new symptom has made itself known." At her worried look, Watson continued. "However, he will be feeling better soon." '_I hope._' he added silently.

"Have you discovered what has been ailing him?" she inquired. Watson held an internal debate on whether or not he should tell her the truth. He reasoned it would be best to go ahead and tell her in the event that Mary should attempt to come back while he wasn't there.

"Yes. He is ill because he was being poisoned with arsenic." Mrs. Hudson gasped in shock.

"Who would do such a thing?"

"It was Mary." Watson saw guilt flash over the woman's face when she found out the truth.

"It was in his food wasn't it? I let her make his food."

"Now, Mrs. Hudson, this is no fault of yours. The only one to blame here is Mary. Now, I was wondering if you could make Holmes some soup or a light meal."

"Of course, Doctor." Watson smiled.

"Good. Make sure there is plenty of garlic in it. It will help him heal."

~x~x~x~

Holmes smiled to himself as lay on the bed. He couldn't believe how things turned out. He had never had such luck in his entire life. He just hoped that Watson was sincere and sure about what was happening.

~x~x~x~

Mary sat, angry, at her desk at Cavendish Place. She was continuing the letter she had been writing before, only now, it was going to be worded a bit differently.

_The plan has been discovered. John kicked me out of Baker Street and wants nothing_

_more to do with me. He is acting as Holmesʼ protector once more._

_~Mary_

~x~x~x~

**TBC...**

**A/N:** I am truly sorry this update took so long...


	9. Chapter 9

**Title: **Secrets Destroy

**Author:** YaoiGoddessNekoJin

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1 (Yeah, I'm lazy XP )

**A/N:** Well, updates should be more regular seeing as I, and everyone I worked with, got laid off. I hope you guys like this quite eventful chapter! ^-^

_**Chapter IX**_

_Mary,_

_I had anticipated this moment and that is why I_

_secured a back-up plan. I think it is time to_

_bring in Mr. Jenkins once more._

_~X_

A sly grin spread out on Maryʼs face as she re-read the newest letter she had received. Now, the plan was becoming clearer to her. The man she was dealing with truly was a genius. Every intricate detail came into play to attain the ultimate goal. She rose from her chair and tucked a blonde curl behind her ear before grabbing her jacket and heading out. She had no doubt that Thomas Jenkins would be delighted to see Mr. Holmes again.

~x~x~x~

Holmes slowly began to wake up from his peaceful slumber. It had been three days since Watson had kicked his wretched former fiance out and three days of no nightmares and deep, healing sleeps. Wiggling ever so slightly, Holmes felt the tell-tale restrictions of being enfolded in a strong, warm embrace. He listened for a moment, making sure he hadnʼt woken the other man and, when he was met with deep, rhythmic breathing, he buried his nose in the crook of Watsonʼs neck, breathing in the scent of home and security. Holmes was completely surprised when he felt vibrations against his face as a chuckle rumbled through Watsonʼs throat. He slowly looked up, much like a child caught sneaking sweets, and met amused, sparkling blue eyes.

"How long have you been awake?" he asked, attempting to cover his embarrassment. Watson smiled charmingly and tightened his arms around Holmesʼ far to narrow waist.

"Long enough. How do you feel this morning?" Holmes rolled his eyes when Watson gently laid a hand against his head. He batted it away, though the smile remained on his face.

"I feel fine Watson. Your strict regiment of food with my garlic has been working quite well." Holmes grinned lopsidedly at Watson at his previous comment. For a moment, Watson just stared at him, taking in the sight of a truly happy Holmes. It was beautiful. He leaned down and gently placed a kiss on his forehead before capturing Holmesʼ lips with his own. Holmes moaned into the kiss as he deepened it and pushed Watsonʼs shoulder until he was on his back with Holmes straddling his waist. Watson felt the hands on him as if they were searing hot. They were everywhere and Holmes was already writhing on top of him. As much as he would have liked this to continue, Watson knew he would have to put a stop to it soon. He gently pushed Holmes back and, when he had use of his mouth again, answered the questioning look on his loveʼs face.

"We canʼt. Not right now." Before Holmes could protest, Watson cupped his cheek, rubbing a thumb over his kiss-reddened bottom lip. "We will. Just not now." Sighing heavily in frustration, Holmes collapsed against Watsonʼs chest, like a marionette with its strings cut. He stretched out and began to idly draw patterns across the pale chest below him. Watson buried his fingers in the tangled mess of dark hair and stroked Holmesʼ head soothingly. Holmesʼ eyes were just about to close, the strong thrumming of Watsonʼs heart below his ear providing the only lullaby he needed, when the doctor cleared his throat.

"As much as I would love to stay like this forever, I have a few patients I must attend to today. I have been putting it off as long as I could, but you are, thankfully, doing better now." Holmes raised his head and shot Watson a pout. Staring into the detectiveʼs large, brown eyes, Watson smirked.

"You know that doesnʼt work on me anymore." Holmes just huffed and begrudgingly moved off of Watsonʼs chest. Standing up, Watson limped over to his cane and, having fallen asleep in his clothes, pulled his jacket on.

"I shall return as soon as I am able." he said, heading for the door. Holmes nodded and replied firmly.

"You better."

~x~x~x~

It was nearing midday when Watson was able to get some time to breathe between patients. He had had a bad feeling in his gut all day that he was unable to shake. He kept telling himself that it was nothing and he was just being paranoid but it didnʼt work. He didnʼt get any further time to analyze the feeling as his next patient walked in. Watson forced a smile readied himself for the next appointment.

~x~x~x~

A large, burly man stood in a dark alley across the street from 221B Baker Street. Hidden in the shadows, he was able to avoid detection from passersby and glared into the darkened room on the second floor of the building. He waited for the better part of the day until he saw an elderly woman exit the apartment and a figure appear between newly separated curtains. Smirking evilly to himself, he inconspicuously crossed the street and walked up to the door. Instead of knocking, he used his body to shield his actions as he picked the lock. A moment later, he entered the building and re-locked the door and moved the closest large piece of furniture in front of it to prevent anyone from interrupting him. Thanking his his expansive knowledge on stealth, the man carefully crept up the stairs and quietly entered the room at the top after making sure nobody was in it. Seeing another door on the other side of the room, he made his way through the mess to it and laid his hand on the doorknob.

~x~x~x~

Holmes sighed in frustration as he peered out the window into the dwindling light of day. He tried to reason with himself, tried to tell himself that he was merely being foolish, but it did nothing to quell the twisting unease in his stomach. Watson had said that his appointments would not take very long and, here it was drawing ever closer to dusk. He knew full well that it was likely that Watson simply got caught up with a gravely ill patient. He was being unreasonable, however, the intensity of the self-loathing he felt within continued to whisper wicked possibilities to his conscious mind. Holmes was worried that Watson had come to his senses and returned to Mary. After all, the woman had been his _fiance. _He was well aware that he was no catch. His mood was constantly changing, for the worst most of the time, he had strange habits that tended to irk people, his apartment was a mess, and he ran a multitude of experiments that back-fired, quite literally, many times before he got the desired result. His peculiar sleeping habits and inclination toward drug abuse were two of his faults that personally upset Watson on a near daily basis. In all fairness, Mary was an angel compared to him and he found that he could not blame Watson if he chose her over him.

Quite suddenly, Holmes was grabbed from behind and spun around, his back slammed against the wall. He had been so deep in thought, it seemed that he failed to notice that someone had entered his room. When he regained his breath, his eyes rose to the face of his assailant. Holmes was unable to stop the petrified gasp that escaped his lips.

"You." he said, wishing desperately that he was in the nightmare that had been plaguing him for the last months. The man that still had him by the lapels laughed harshly, dark glee dancing in his eyes.

"Aw, Iʼm flattered. You remember me." Holmes scowled. "Well, the feelingʼs mutual. Oh, I havenʼt been able to get you off of my mind since our little affair." He made his point by pressing himself closer to Holmesʼ body. The man leaned down to kiss him roughly on the mouth, biting his lip until Holmes tasted the tangy flavor of blood. He was unable to quell the trembling in his body, his heart thudding rapidly in his chest. He felt the urge to vomit and dearly wished that Watson would burst in any moment to save him. Holmes didnʼt even see the fist before it struck him in the side of the head, effectively knocking him unconscious.

~x~x~x~

Watson sighed, annoyed, and ran a hand through his hair in frustration. He was leaning heavily on his cane, the exasperation from the situation weighing heavily on him. He was currently standing in the middle of Cavendish Placeʼs sitting room listening to Mary carry on. He knew he never should have come here. He had a bad feeling as soon as he ran into his former fiance on the street.

_Watson was striding down the road after a very eventful morning. He had seen several of the patients he had been neglecting for the past few weeks and couldnʼt wait to get home to Holmes. He wasnʼt paying any attention to where he was going, his mind too far away on the man that he had recently discovered had his heart. Therefore, it was a complete surprise when he bumped into someone, his equilibrium compromised. With the help of his cane, he steadied himself and turned to see if the other person was alright. When his eyes fell on the woman before him, they widened in astonishment and then narrowed to a glare._

"_What are _you_ doing here? I thought I made it clear that I wanted nothing more to do with you." Maryʼs large, blue eyes were glazed over with tears as she looked up at the man in front of her._

"_John." she said softly, voice wavering. "John, you must hear me out. I never meant to hurt anyone, I just love you so very much. I have been terribly lonely."_

"_You should have thought about that before you attempted to kill my best friend." Watson responded coldly. However, try as he might, Maryʼs pitifully grief-stricken face still got to him. He had been in love with her after all. Hell, they would still be getting married if it werenʼt for this fiasco. He would have lived his life in ignorant bliss with his practice and a family and would have never put thought into anything but feeling friendship for Holmes. But, was that what he really wanted? Since Holmesʼ confession, he felt more alive than the ever had with Mary._

"_Please, John. Just come home with me and let me explain everything." As a tear rolled down Maryʼs porcelain cheek, he felt his resolve breaking. He knew he _really_ shouldnʼt go with her, but he could at least hear her out._

That one decision was what put him in this situation in the first place. When they returned to Cavendish Place, the maid had lunch ready and Mary insisted that they eat before discussing things. Watson thought it slightly odd that there was just enough food for two people when she was the only one who resided here now. Lunch seemed to take an eternity. Watson didnʼt eat hardly anything and what he did eat was only to appease the elder woman who had made it. When they made it to the sitting room, Mary sat beside Watson, as close as she could, and prattled on about unimportant things for a while. Watson, at the end of his rope, had stood abruptly and demanded that Mary get to the point.

"John, he wasnʼt good for you. The man is disturbed on his own, but he was pulling you down with him." Watson couldnʼt believe what he was hearing and gritted his teeth to keep from lashing out. "I just wanted to protect you from-"

"So you poisoned him?" Watson interrupted. Maryʼs eyes went wide again.

"I swear, John, I didnʼt set out to kill him! I just wanted to make him weak enough so that he couldnʼt tie you down with his clever words. I did the research on the amounts so that I could avoid lasting effects, but I must have done something wrong." Maryʼs eyes began watering again and she dabbed at them when a tear finally escaped. "John, I have never loved anyone as much as I love you." she continued quietly. "I know how important Mr. Holmes is to you so why would I risk you hating me by killing him? I had hoped to make a good impression on him. I wished dearly that he would like me for your sake." Watson exhaled loudly.

"Itʼs not your fault. He made his mind up about you long before your meeting. He did everything he could to convince me that proposing to you was a mistake." At this revelation, Maryʼs face crumpled and she began weeping.

"Were we doomed from the beginning?" she choked out between sobs. "From the moment we began dating, I fell head-over-heels in love with you. I imagined what it would be like to spend the rest of my life with you and was so happy from the idea. I _love _you John. Please give me a second chance, I beg of you. It will utterly destroy me if I lose you because of my own idiocy." Watson sighed and massaged the bridge of his nose. He walked to Mary and knelt on the ground so that he was eye level with her.

~x~x~x~

When Holmes awoke, his head was foggy and his vision blurry. He tried to remember what had happened, but it wasnʼt until he attempted to rub his head with his hand that he was ripped back into reality. His pulse sped up and his breathing hitched. He tried to yank his hands down and when he was unable to, he looked up and saw that they were tied securely around the headboard of his bed with a belt...his belt, he realized. His heart dropped into his stomach when he looked down and saw that he had been divested of all his clothes. Fear engulfed him and he struggled with all of his might to free himself from the bonds that held him in place. He panicked when the belt didnʼt budge and he had only succeeded in rubbing his wrists raw until they were bleeding. Holmes ceased all movement when a guttural laugh came from the door. He slowly looked up to see the man he hoped he would never see again standing in the room smoking a cigar.

"Iʼm so glad I get a second chance at this. The last time had to be so terribly fast." he said in a sickly, happy voice. "Tell me, does your dear doctor know of what you did?" Holmes felt rage fill him and was unable to stop himself from spitting out a response.

"What _I_ did? You bastard! I swear, for your sake, you better hope that Scotland Yard gets a hold of you before I do!" he yelled. The man just laughed and approached the bed. He backhanded Holmes across the face and proceeded to take his cigar from his mouth and press the smoldering end against Holmesʼ stomach. Holmes gritted his teeth and winced slightly. Sure it hurt, but heʼd had much worse in the course of his life.

"By the way, I figured you should know the name of the man that has taken such an interest in you. The nameʼs Thomas." he said, grinning as he grabbed Holmesʼ chin in has large, meaty hand and squeezed. Thomas released Holmesʼ face and slowly circled the bed and he thought aloud. Now, what should I do next?" His eyes lit up and he reached for something hidden within the folds of his clothes. Holmesʼ eyes widened when he saw the dagger that was soon unsheathed. He approached the restrained man once more. Holmes took a sharp intake of breath as the blade pierced his skin, leaving a long, thin line of blood behind. Not quite satisfied with the reaction he got, Thomas roughly slashed a considerably deeper cut, this time down his stomach. This elicited a muffled yell from Holmes. He threw his head back and attempted to control his breathing, which had become ragged. Thomas laughed again with glee and began cutting Holmes, with the dagger, over the expanse of his body, each time drawing a louder pained noise from his lips. When Thomas was done, Holmes was covered in his own blood form the wounds that littered the front of his body, head to toe. His chest was heaving and his eyes unfocused from the white-hot pain that he felt coursing through his body.

Thankfully, Thomas had retreated to the lower floor of the building and gave Holmes a moment of respite. That didnʼt last long, however, when he returned with something in his hand. As he got closer, Holmes could see what looked like the container of salt that Mrs. Hudson kept in the pantry. Bracing himself for the pain he knew was about to come, he squeezed his eyes shut. He grunted when he felt salt being poured over his body, but screamed when that salt was rubbed into all of his wounds by large, rough hands. He briefly blacked out and felt a vicious slap across the face that roused him. Blinking weary eyes up at the ceiling, Holmes prayed for Watson to walk through the door and gather him in his warm, protective embrace, waking him up from this nightmare he was in. Thomas leaned down to whisper in Holmesʼ ear as the man squirmed, attempting to get away.

"I wonder what your dear doctor will think of you when he finds out that youʼve let yourself be violated, not once, but twice. Maybe heʼll finally realize how much of a whore you are." Holmes immediately stiffened, turning large, brown eyes to the man beside him.

"No! Please! Donʼt tell Watson!" Thomas merely laughed.

"Aw, begging for it already? Not to worry, love, weʼll be getting to the main event soon."

~x~x~x~

**TBC...**

**A/N:** Well, whatʼcha think? R&R!


	10. Chapter 10

**Title: **Secrets Destroy

**Author:** YaoiGoddessNekoJin

**Rating:** M

**Warnings:** See Chapter 1

**Disclaimer:** See Chapter 1 (Yeah, I'm lazy XP )

**A/N:** I am _so_ sorry for the time it has taken me to update. I promise I have not forgotten about this story and I _will_ _not_ leave it unfinished. I have recently gotten into a new fandom and lost inspiration for this fic. I didnʼt want to try to force myself to write only to result in having the story turn _blah_. But, hereʼs another chapter and I hope to update in a more timely manner than before.

_**Chapter X**_

Watson looked into Maryʼs large, watery eyes. He found himself feeling sorry for her despite everything that had happened. If she had never met him, none of this would have ever happened and she wouldnʼt be sitting here heartbroken. He gently took her petite hands in his and prepared to speak.

~x~x~x~

Holmes awoke with a start when he was drenched with ice cold water. His captor stood above him, laughing at his torment. Holmes felt his eyes well up with hot tears. He had hoped that this all had been a dream. After his torture and abuse, Thomas, as promised, had raped him..._again_. Holmes lay there, head turned away from Thomas, and a resigned look taking over his features. He was finished. He was finished fighting. He knew that he would never be able to come back from this. Just the thought that, when Watson found out about this, he would never touch him again, know he was dirty and used, was enough to drive him insane. No, he wouldnʼt..._couldnʼt _deal with that. In that moment, Holmes made a decision about his future that would permanently resolve all of his problems. As soon as Thomas left, he was going to take his own life.

~x~x~x~

"Mary, I-I _thought_ I loved you as well." Mary jerked slightly at Johnʼs use of thought in that sentence. She latched onto his hands tighter, shaking her head frantically. "Mary, listen to me. I have come to realize that I tried to deflect my feelings off of Holmes and onto you."

"NO!" Mary suddenly shrieked. Watson fell back onto his rear as Mary stood abruptly. "How can you love _him_ instead of _me_?! Heʼs just a common whore!" Watson stood, his leg causing some difficulty, and glared at her.

"Now, Mary-" he was cut off by Maryʼs rage-filled ranting.

"Oh, yes! I ran into his father some time ago. It was in the countryside where I was visiting my parents. When he found out that I knew Holmes, he warned me to stay away from him! He said he used to sell himself on the streets and then steal everything from the men he slept with. He even said that Holmes murdered a man in cold blood!" Watsonʼs face drained of all color and he felt bile begin to rise in his throat. He knew he shouldnʼt believe Mary, but there was just something in her voice that made him think twice.

"You lie." he whispered, voice raw with emotion.

"I do not!" Mary replied indignantly. "If you donʼt believe me then why donʼt you ask him yourself?!" Watson immediately turned toward the door and left, leaning heavier than usual on his cane.

~x~x~x~

"Well, Mr. Holmes, I must take my leave for now, but I _will_ be back soon." Thomas whispered hotly in Holmesʼ ear as he caressed his cheek with the edge of the knife. Holmes just rolled his head to the other side, eyes glazed over, emotionless. Thomas chuckled as he pulled his clothes on and left the flat. He had left Holmes tied to the bed, but the idiot never realized that Holmes swiped his knife as he turned from the bed. Holmes shifted the knife so that the blade was pointing downwards and began slicing into the rope. Once he was free, he gingerly hobbled over to his pants, pain marring his features, and pulled them on. Holmes had made up his mind and there was no going back now. He knew that this was a long time coming and he was obligated to remove the stain that was his life from the world. Holmes removed his revolver from the stack of papers where it rested and moved back to sit gently on the bed. He took a moment to contemplate _everything_ in his life that led up to the here and now for a moment before he slowly turned the gun to himself. The feel of cold metal against his temple both terrified and thrilled Sherlock. He closed his eyes and drew in a deep breath before drawing back the hammer of the revolver. Just as his index finger twitched against the trigger, the door to his room swung open.

~x~x~x~

Watson rushed up the stairs of the apartment at Baker Street. He _had_ to get to the bottom of this entire mess. His head ached just trying to make sense of half of the things he had heard that night. Watson opened the door to the study, red-faced and panting from his trek across town, and looked around. When he found no sign of Holmes, he went up to the manʼs bedroom door and, without knocking, swung the door open. Blue eyes widened in horror at the sight that greeted him. Holmes was sitting on the edge of his bed, covered in nasty, inflamed cuts of varying depth. He had his revolver in hand, however, instead of having it pointed at the wall as per usual, he had it pointed at his own head. Watson felt his heart stutter to a halt in his chest and his breathing cease altogether. Holmes looked over at the disturbance and Watson felt his heart break at the empty, desolate look in his loveʼs eyes. Without sparing a second thought, Watson charged toward the man and, before Holmes was able to do anything about it, he grabbed the gun and launched it across the room, falling to his knees in front of the man. Holmes just stared at Watson for a moment, his eyes slowly becoming more moist. Before long, tears began to trail down Holmesʼ face and he collapsed into Watsonʼs arms, sobbing uncontrollably in sorrow, defeat, frustration, and self-hatred. Watson felt his eyes prickle with tears of his own as he carefully held onto the man he loved dearly. The doctor raised a hand and began to run it soothingly through Holmesʼ hair as he muttered incomprehensible words of comfort into his ear. Watson decided then and there that the matter Mary had brought up could wait for now. Holmes needed his support and love more that ever and he was going to give his all to providing that.

~x~x~x~

**TBC...**

**A/N:** Itʼs really short, I know, but I actually love how this chapter turned out. ^-^ I _hope_ to get more up soon! I already have the entire course of this story planned out, itʼs just a matter of translating that into words.


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